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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259243">Before the New Dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Hiraya/pseuds/Miss%20Hiraya'>Miss Hiraya (Miss_Hiraya)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SB19 songs adventures [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SB19 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bagong Yugto is here, Borderline crack, GITZ Era appreciation!, GITZ Songs as Characters, Gen, Like SB19 they are absolute precious bbys, No Beta, SB19 members cameo, a bit wonky writing style- sorry, emotional roller coaster ride, slight angst, turned Fluff in the end</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:46:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Hiraya/pseuds/Miss%20Hiraya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The eldest will tell you of many stories- she is the one that existed the longest after all. Probably, you will not know her at first glance. She is shy, reserved, and almost somber. She is not one who stands out at first sight. And frankly, her foreign looks deceive people to criticize than be curious of the new tidings she brings."</p><p>What if SB19 songs could talk? What would they say? What would they do to welcome the new era? They will tell you stories of course. The eldest is a crybaby, by the way- but don't tell her that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SB19 songs adventures [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2259164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Before the New Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I couldn't write any words to describe what I felt yesterday when SB19 released their "Goodbye to GITZ era" vid, so I did what I could.</p><p>Also, because Stell actually said, "Kung tatanungin niyo si Tilaluha, iiyak na lang siguro yun." Or something like that? And the bunny played with that to her heart's content (obsessively). Now look at what she made me do.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At night, after the most stubborn pens had been laid down and the most tired of eyes  are finally closed, there is a point- a figment of time and space and reality that exists. Just beyond the room where the last member slumbers; a corner away from the halls that always bustled at daylight; behind the non-descript wooden door. Shelves of boxes, plastics, endless plethora of paper, leather, and the smell of dust will greet you if you step in there at the wrong time.</p><p>At the right time, you will meet them.  They will indulge your surprise and musings, will entertain you and pluck your heartstrings when you listen to them. And when asked, they will tell you things. Things of one particular epic that will perhaps bore you or make you feel things after the strange encounter.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The first that will greet you probably will not be the eldest, but the second one. He is easily spotted, even amidst darkness. After all, in his trail is a loud presence and irresistible charm. His eyes are filled with distant galaxies and faraway dreamscapes, as if he holds every man's stars. He will make you <em>look</em> and he will shamelessly hold your hand until you feel him ignite your veins in cosmic flames. He will dance with you, make you forget about consequences and certainties that rule the world. You will feel the spark in your bloodstream to do something- wander, chase! seek your star!-  and then he will tell you things you always want to hear.</p><p>He is a strange one, but not the strangest. He is not young, but he is youthful. Cheerful, and friendly that he will draw you in effortlessly. His hands that will hold you are strong, perhaps rough in some places and stiff cold in some. He is warm and bright, and does not at all belong in the stillness of the night. Do not fret. He means no harm. He will tell you a story:</p><p>A journey, five humans chasing one star, and lone kindle of hope. A tall tale, it is. An impossible trek. These three things alone will not make the best of stories nor the most unique, for anecdotes of star-gazing and accounts of stellar chases are not new stories at all.</p><p>But he will tell you anyway. His words, almost plain and blurred amongst the many stories you hear everyday, they will sound as the truest of tales. Because the hands that will hold you, dance with you, they tell the unspoken things- the secret things that they will not tell you for sympathy. The callouses, the muscle memory, blood, sweat and tears; they will tell you the parts of the journey not many will like to hear.</p><p>And he will do so with a big practiced smile, and tired galaxy-filled eyes. Still, he will tell you to hope, to go forward like the five pilgrims in his tale. He will tell you all the adventures your heart yearns to hear everyday, but he will do so with sincerity and empathy that will make you try and find your own star, too.</p><p>If he gives you a basket full of constellations, accept them. He only means well. Who knows, you might find your star there.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The eldest will tell you of many stories- she is the one that existed the longest after all. Probably, you will not know her at first glance. She is shy, reserved, and almost somber. She is not one who stands out at first sight. And frankly, her foreign looks deceive people to criticize than be curious of the new tidings she brings.</p><p>She is strangest among them all, yes. She is made of different souls, three of which that only belong to the past now. It is for the same reason that she tells her stories different way. She will not coax you to dance but she will sit with you and stare at the foggy windowpane for hours, wishing for rain for stop. The rain, of course, does not fall everytime she is near. She does cry a lot. Although, she speaks of rain fondly and bitterly at the same time that you will know she speaks of the kind that exists in one's heart anyway.</p><p>She will tell you her story; no wild gestures like the middle one, and no confidence like the second one. In fact, she will ask more than she will tell. She too does not know much of the matters of the heart and how it operates. She speaks instead, lets her longing and heartbreak out to anyone that will care to listen. She will make you feel as if you are drowning, perhaps of the rain that you may or may not deny that exists within you. A ballad it is; soulful and heart-wrenching as the most seasoned tragic tales across the land.</p><p>You know what else she will tell you? Listen closely. The peculiar fragments of her soul, and the voice that she tells you her story with. She will tell you another tale; of seven pilgrims and how Fate decided them to be five in the end. She will show you heartbreak, not of the ones gone but the ones left behind. She will tell you of diverged paths and fates not meant to be, of patience and faith to keep on moving forward from the starting line no matter how devastatingly slow- no matter who is left behind.</p><p>If you ask for more, tears will fall like rain indeed. Be prepared: what the second one can tell you cannot compare to the ones she has witnessed. In the end, you will be left with the feeling of wanting to meet the star-chasers too, right when they were still starting to walk. You will wish, foolishly, childishly, to be a part of that tale earlier if only to echo back to them the words that the second one told you.</p><p>That is okay. Wish for it. Perhaps, if you wish for it desperately enough you will see her sweet, kind smile. The rain will not follow you around, then.</p><p>Never tell her she is a crybaby. You will be disinvited in a snap.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The middle is in ways, like the second one. She is playful as campfire flames on a clear night. She is sweet; easily inspiring confidence and vibrance in every nimble step she takes. Her eyes, unlike the eternally somber ones of their eldest, are alight in five different colors of love. She is fire personified, youth, and innocence, and pure affections. She will smile, come to you and make you blush (and <em>dance!)</em>, tell you that you are someone her heart beats for in quick tempos. She is love, alright. In her presence, you will feel it- the familiar sing in your veins that wants to cherish and to be cherished. A lovely romance, indeed.</p><p>On her skin are written victories by her name, as if she has gone to many wars and won. Some are familiar to you already, the names of prestigious conquests. Some you will have to think more about, for they are written in simple lines as if keeping count-  as if she had been trapped as a prisoner, once upon a time.</p><p>She is easy; even her name slips your tongue so smoothly. As naive and lighthearted her grooves and moves are, do not be fooled. If their eldest can tell you of the perils of the star-chasers' journey, and their second can tell you of the zeal that propelled them to their first summit, she will tell you a different tale if asked. It will not be about fluffy romances or the anecdotes of victories, nor tales of tragedies.</p><p>She will tell you the stagnance and the lack of everything. The middle, where nothing really happens. The betweens that every story, every hero goes through but will not always be happy to share.</p><p>She will tell you the horrors of being stuck in one place for a long time- seemingly left to be shadowed forever by a colossal predecessor. She will tell you the chasers' struggle of keeping up to that star, and tales of endless days wandering in desert with no glimmering speck in the sky at night to guide them.</p><p>The marks on her skin will show you the inner turmoil and conflicts, and the anxieties lurking amidst uncertainty and insecurity of being left in the shadow of a giant that came before. Because in her time, when the pilgrims were already gaining momentum to run upwards to their star, the universe seemed to stop working altogether. And for a long, long time the pilgrims had to make do. They (she) had to be enough.</p><p>So do not judge her easy smiles. Her marked skin is testament to her own piece of the tale of five star chasers. The fire in her story has forged courage a d persistence like no other, and she will freely give one to you, if you stay long enough.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The  other one is, perhaps everyone agrees, the acknowledged youngest of the eldest. She was created alongside the unnamed ones, the last to be given her name and birthright. She is moody; a cycle of hope and desperation and acceptance. It is as if she has gone through hell and back, not unharmed but healing. And her story is a mirror to her successful quest.</p><p>She will tell you, not quite somberly although not quite animatedly too, a love that started the long, long journey. The love for stars, the thirst for adventure, and the hunger for change. She will tell you the deepest desires of five hearts; the ones that made their footsteps continue forward on the ever-changing road towards their star. She will tell you one promise shared amongst five, to seek the star and follow it until the end of its course.</p><p>There is something in her epic that will make your heart flutter, break and then settle. It is in this point you will realize you want to be there too, in the story and the next unwritten ones yet, to cheer for the heroes you have come to cherish with each written anecdote. She will leave you in tears, but not quite like the eldest did. There will be a smile on your face. Your heart will know what it feels to face an inevitable end to the story; you know it will be there, though not yet in sight. You will want to see it through, just like the promise made between the five wayfarers and their luminary.</p><p>Hold her hand tight, do not worry. She is full of tactile affections and reassurances that you will find comfort in. If you stay long enough to listen to her tale, she will allow you to partake in the fabled promise.</p><p> </p><p>Three words. Repeat after her with all your heart.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>If you think you have met them all, you will find yourself staring at three more. They are not quite as big and loud like the others, but they feel like important pieces you will like to hear- the little sidequests you will want to listen to.</p><p>These ones are named, for sure, but they had not seen the sun as much as the other four had been. It will be enough to pique your curiosity.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>One is as bright and all over the place like the second, and you will think he might be as old the eldest too.</p><p>Meeting him is like drizzle on a sunny day. He is a surprise; the kind, gentle shower that will make anyone pause in their tracks. The first meeting will bring you a pleasant kind of shock, confusing you enough. He will reach out, gentle hand and kind smile to the space in the middle of your forehead. His eyes are mirrors of eternal blue skies, and he will stare at you until you are forced to exhale-</p><p>Loosen the tension of your shoulders, untangle the knot between your brows, lift your cheeks, <em>smile</em>!</p><p>Only then he will tell you his stories. His are funny, silly ones. Unstructured, almost careless and reckless in nature. He will tell you almost anything from inane jokes to ridiculous misadventures of the five star-chasers. His recitations have no exact lesson, plot or conflict. He is just glad to share bits of halcyon moments that did not need to have reasons to occur, and happy mistakes to remember fondly.</p><p>And though his accent tilts a little, his presence a little too peaceful and optimistic, his words are warm and sincere as the finger that will tease your lips to curve up.</p><p>He will feel like an old, trusted friend that you will want to have as company when waging wars against storms.</p><p>Do not forget to smile when saying your farewell to him.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It is easy to miss the next one, for he is acquainted in the shadows that he almost blends in to it. But if you stray to his corner and welcome the coldness that he brings, you will find him anyway.</p><p>He is angst; like he is forever grieving and bitter of something. He will remind you of your own rebellious phase. Where yours is perhaps because losing something precious, his will feel like he has lost someone of utmost importance. So important actually, that even the sun has left in his eyes, and all that is left is a home of shadows. Beneath anger and intensity in his mere presence is a lost heart, and a fragmented soul.</p><p>His story is a cry to a distant past, an elegy to a yesterday gone. You will wonder where this narrative will fit in the long epic of the five pilgrims. And then you will remember the eldest's unspoken story; the ones lost and the many more sacrifices taken.</p><p>Do not say your condolences. They will mean nothing to him. Instead, when he is silent after he tells you his story, stay still. Say your prayers, pretend that you do not see tears welling in the corner of his eyes. And when he is back to his anger and defiance, let him. Perhaps, he chose to carry that grief with him so the others would not have to.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The last one, for the lack of better word, is a child. She is spring; she smells of fresh earth and new mornings. Her short wave of hair is adorned by white daffodils in their curls, as a matter of fact. She is the first ray of light that seeps through the room, fleeting and hushed.</p><p>Like the other three, she is named but she has not seen the sun for too long. And that is fine to her.</p><p>She will tell you instead some stories of hope. Of that time that the middle one speaks of. But she will not recite anymore of the horror she has seen, as she does not need to. No, she will tell you the sunshine after rain. She will tell you the rainbow she had witnessed after the long drought and blessed rain. She will narrate with her childlike innocence, how the five pilgrims found their way back to the paths of their long-awaited star. At the end of her story of happy not-quite ends, you will find yourself receiving one daffodil from her hair in humble gratitude.</p><p>She will be the last to hold your hand, as she guides you back to the door. <em>It is okay to look back</em>, she will say. <em>It is okay to bring the flower, too</em>.</p><p>You will do both, for there is nothing else to do. She will squeeze your hand, a mere tiny press against your larger ones. <em>Look forward</em>, she will say; <em>a new dawn is coming, </em>the demure flower will tell you.</p><p><em>I hope you visit us again</em>. She will mumble with her shy smile. And all you will hear is, <em>Please do not forget us.</em></p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"I hope they release another dance song. It's been ages!" It has only been seconds after the door has closed. They only have moments too, before their parchment of time, space and reality runs out. They will have to wait for another opening in the future, so now they make sure to make the most of the remaining chance.</p><p>And of course, they spend it on being as loud as they can. Well, some of them at least.</p><p>"Are you saying you're tired of me, <em>Alab</em>??" <em>Go Up</em> chirps from his perch, faux indignation on his too cheerful face.</p><p>"What, no!! Kuya, no! Haha! Well, kind of? For a long time it's only us and Kuya <em>W</em><em>MIAIN</em>, you know? And fineee, fine I'll even include our angsty muffin over there!" <em>Alab</em> hollers, throwing the endearment to the special corner where their resident emo sibling lurks.</p><p>As expected, <em>Love Goes</em> narrows his eyes, poking his head out of his oversized black hoodie. "Who's an angsty muffin??!"</p><p>"Uhh, you!"</p><p>"Hun, there's nobody else angstier in this side of the world than you-"</p><p>"You know what I wish for? Another ballad." A calmer voice inserts in between the lively conversation.</p><p>"Ate <em>Tilaluha</em>! This room needs more life! No offense, ate!" <em>Alab</em> huffs, flailing arms everywhere as if she could not exist without being overly passionate of… Everything.</p><p>"<em>Alab</em>, I love you with all my heart but Gods I can use some peace from all of you bickering, too." The eldest tries to reason anyway.</p><p>"Aww, let them have fun, <em>Ate~</em>"</p><p>"Oh, hush. You always patronize them, <em>W</em><em>MIAIN</em>."</p><p>In the middle of the chaos, soft patters of bare feet trot toward an unsuspecting figure. Small hands cup bigger ones, the owner's voice curious and worried like any child would be. "Hmm, are you nervous?"</p><p>The question startles her, and only then does she notice that the noise around her has already quieted.</p><p>Their youngest looks up to her, tiny fingers wrapped around her pale, nervous palms. <em>ikako's</em> eyes are verdant, like the meadows on the first day of spring. Youth. Hope. Charm. She is everything <em>HSH</em> hoped to have been, in a way.</p><p>She is nervous. She tells their youngest so. "Did.. Did I-Did we do well?"</p><p>There it is. The unspoken question that they all wanted to ask themselves. They should be comforted, <em>HSH</em> thought, for they left good and lasting legacies on their own. Each of their successors had paved the way meticulously and wonderfully in their own signatures. She could not be any more proud of her siblings for that.</p><p>And how about her? She has <em>ikako</em>, but the younger belongs to a different time like the rest of them. She is supposed to pass the torch to the next ones, the ones of the new times and the new dawn.</p><p>She feels as if she is not ready to let go yet. She has not done enough yet, unlike her siblings. She is not done carving her way in her signature, not in a way that is worth their pride yet.</p><p>Someone knocks a gentle fist to her head, and someone tilts her head to face six beings- so alike and unlike her in many different ways. Not for the first time she realizes, how beautiful of a piece each of them is. How could they not be? They were all created by careful, steady, passionate and sincere hands of their dearest five star-chasers.</p><p><em>Go Up's</em> orbs made of galaxies, <em>Alab's</em> kaleidoscope hues and tattoos on tanned skin, <em>Tilaluha's</em> beautiful mixed heritage, <em>Love Goes</em>' sharp-edged intensity, <em>W</em><em>MIAIN's</em> infectious sunburst smile, and <em>ikako's</em> childlike hopefulness,</p><p>and her- with intricate knots and braids on her hair and a pinky wrapped with five strings of different (familiar) colors- the personification of a sacred promise of five dreamers to each other, and to their listeners and readers.</p><p>Did they do well?</p><p>A finger presses between her knotted brows. And it does wonders, as always, like the calm breeze and gentle drizzle on a sunny day.</p><p>It does not matter what she thinks of what she has done and what she has yet to do. The new dawn is here. All that is left to do is welcome it like how their eldest did for all of them.</p><p>"Alright, back to our places now. And make room for the new guys!"</p><p>"I don't know, I kind of like to spook the boys once in a while~"</p><p>"Ooooh, I always like your ideas, <em>Kuya Go Up</em>!"</p><p>"And what? Scare them on the day of their comeback?? Nope, <em>Alab</em> no-"</p><p>"<em>Alab</em> yesS!"</p><p>"..  I mean, it's fun. It'll be like us sending them an encouraging message!"</p><p>"-A horrible morning, you mean. I can't believe you're supposed to be the second oldest-"</p><p>"Aww, guys calm down now~"</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><span class="u"><strong>Extra</strong></span>:</p><p>In the early morning, the boys are part scared shitless, part relieved that <em>Go Up</em> played mysteriously from one of their old speakers in the storage room.</p><p>One, it certainly woke them up with a start. Two, it made all five of them run out of their rooms, cursing and rolling sleeves up as if gearing for a fistfight (Josh and Sejun),  praying to all saints possible (Stell), or both (Ken). (Justin was the only one silent with his charger in hand, probably to garrote someone with. Or exorcise, whichever was appropriate. He is always prepared. <em>Always.)</em></p><p>The bizarre circumstance eventually had them laughing at each other's face when they realized none of them slept through the buzzing excitement. On the day of their much-awaited come back, no less.</p><p>"… Who's going to turn the thing off?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Guys! Let's all welcome Bagong Yugto with open arms!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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